


EÄRLÍRË - The Sea Song

by silmarilz1701



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aldarion is basically a male Moana let's be real, Elenna, F/M, Mariners, Middle Earth, Númenor, Sailing, Second Age, Uinen Worshippers, Uinendili
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarilz1701/pseuds/silmarilz1701
Summary: It wasn't just the elves that were called by the sea. Men heard the song too.Year 725 of the Second Age. Númenor prospers, and remains on friendly, if somewhat estranged terms with the elves of Middle Earth. On the white sandy shores of Númenor's beaches, three friends grew up dreaming of adventure. Now they must prepare for the journey of their lives.Across tossing waves and through raging storms they will head East, to Middle Earth, leaving behind everything they knew to find new friends and allies, the elves of their parents' and grandparents' stories. Led by the ever dashing and daring Prince Aldarion, they will find that like the sea, the moods of both Middle Earth and Númenor are ever changing.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be sporadic. At the time of posting, I have a major surgery (spinal/neuro) coming up very soon that will either mean no writing for a long time or a LOT of writing. I'm not sure which. So hit that bookmark button if you want to be alerted to updates :)

Aldarion’s gaze turned upwards as he raised his hand to shade his eyes from the blazing sun. A blue and white flag of the House of Elros flapped against the breeze that came off the sea. The edges of his mouth tugged upwards in a small smile. Pride surged through him as he thought about the portraits of Elros Tar-Minyatur in the palace at Armenelos.

 

Here though, as he stood at the great dock his grandfather Vëantur kept, he couldn’t help but compare Armenelos the golden city to one built of wooden blocks next to the majesty of the great ship Númerrámar. Her birchwood flanks and the majestic carven statue of Ossë at the prow demanded respect.

 

Even at rest in the harbor she seemed fierce to Aldarion. He watched a few mariners walk to their own ships on a further dock, forcing himself to look away. But only when he heard a familiar voice did he truly turn his attention aside.

 

“Quit gawking, Aldarion,” teased a red haired woman who approached side by side with a dark haired man. “You’re going to get salt in you mouth with it hanging open like that.”

 

The man snickered. “Talk to your prince politely, Gimlîth.” He teased her with a light shove. Then he turned back to Aldarion. “Don’t worry, she’s just jealous she isn’t going.”

 

But it was Aldarion’s turn to smirk right back at him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Abrazîr.”

 

The man turned to the short-haired woman. He gaped at her, and said nothing.

 

“Now  _ you’re _ gawking, Abrazîr. Vëantur decided to have me on as the navigator’s assistant, and said I would act as lookout as I’m smaller than the lot of you.” She gestured to the well built bodies of both her male companions.

 

Aldarion tossed his shoulder length, wavy golden hair to the side in a teasing pose while flexing his muscles. “We are rather strong, aren't we?”

 

A woman's voice sounded behind them. “Aldarion if you don't stop flexing those muscles you may strain something.”

 

Both Abrazîr and Gilmîth dropped onto single knees as they spun around to face the newcomer. With heads bowed, they hid their snickering laughter. “My queen,” Gilmîth said first, before Abrazîr echoed her.

 

Queen Almarien smiled warmly at them. “Stand. You know you do not need to bow to me, though the homage is appreciated.” As she walked forward down onto the white docks, her long golden curls cascaded down her back, but at her side skittered a girl with short, straight, brown hair. The Queen let go of the girl's hand and folded her bare arms across her chest. “So, are you three excited?”

 

“Of course, my lady,” said Abrazîr with a nod as he stood up. “Captain Vëantur has given us a remarkable opportunity. We cannot thank the lord enough.”

 

Almarien shrugged. “My father picks only the best. Clearly you earned the right to travel with him.” She walked over to Aldarion and fixed his white, flowing shirt collar. “You will be careful.”

 

“Of course, mother,” he muttered. “You don’t need to worry.”

 

Almarien chuckled. With a shake of her head, she removed her busy hands and shook her head. “I am your mother. I will always worry.”

 

“I won’t,” chipped in the little girl who stood next to Gimlîth. “Aldarion is going to be fine.”

 

The prince crouched down and opened his arms, and the girl walked to him. He took her in a hug. “Of course I will, Ailinel.”

 

“Make sure Grandfather brings me something back,” she added quickly as they broke apart.

 

“Tell him yourself at dinner tonight,” countered Aldarion. He turned to his mother. “You are staying, right?”

 

Almarien nodded. “Of course.”

 

Gimlîth grinned. “Good! Then Princess Ailinel and I can spend some quality time together.” Her eyes danced with mischief as her gaze locked with the young girl.

 

“Of course, Gimlîth,” she replied quickly, grinning. Ailinel straightened her pink and white dress properly before winking at Gimlîth who stood in sailor’s gear: brown pants, a white shirt with a brown coat, and on her cropped auburn hair, a decoration like metal twisted olive branches. Ailinel loved Gimlîth, and hoped to be like her someday, though without the ocean. Perhaps, she thought, she could do something in the politics of Númenor.

 

Abrazîr placed his arm around Aldarion’s shoulders and winked. “Well, we best get ready for this party. We’ve a few hours yet.”

 

Aldarion perked up. “Of course, of course.”

 

“We’ll see you at the celebration, my lady,” Abrazîr said as he bowed to the Queen. “I’ll make sure your son stays out of trouble.”

 

Gimlîth snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

 

Almarien chuckled at them and shook her head. “While you two are off exploring the canals of Rómenna before getting ready, because I know that’s where you’re off to, do be careful.” She smirked as Abrazîr removed his arm instantly from her son’s shoulders. “The lower areas get slippery from all the water, especially with the recent rains.” She turned and left, beckoning for Ailinel to follow. The little brown haired girl hurried and caught up as the ascended the golden-white stone steps into Rómenna proper.

 

As soon as she had disappeared from view some two minutes later, up into the town itself and away from the docks, Gimlîth burst into laughter at the disappointed expressions on Aldarion and Abrazîr’s faces. “Good job, Abrazîr. Very sneaky.”

 

“You know what, Gimlîth-”

 

“Oh be quiet,” she shot back, still laughing. “I am going to get ready for the feast. Take care of yourselves.” Taking the steps two at a time, she rushed up them as bell towers rang out for midday.

 

Aldarion shook his head. “Well, she didn’t forbid the exploration. I am going.” He turned on the heels of his black boots and ran to a nearby alleyway.

 

“I am as well, but if your mother gets upset, you take the blame,” Abrazîr told the prince, dashing after him. “I’m not about to let the Queen get angry with me.”

 

“She’s really not that scary,” chipped Aldarion back at him over his shoulder as they maneuvered in the shadowed corridor. Rain water dripped from carved ducts in the roofs. He dodged a puddle in the small space. 

 

It didn’t take long before they reached the canal district. Down here, everyone traveled by small boat or walked along small, two person sized carved stone walkways along the edges. The city merchants used the canals for transportation of goods from the shipyards to the merchant district. Every store had a large hatch at the basement that opened into the canals and through this, the merchandise was lifted into place.

 

Dozens of workers swarmed the canals that day. Aldarion did his best to stay out of their way with Abrazîr, but he was known on sight and they gave him the proper respect demanded by his station as heir. Some of the canal workers were men he recognized as night dock workers too, and he knew a few even had ships of their own which they operated half the year.

 

“Sakalthôr! What stock came in today?” Abrazîr asked an elderly man overseeing the transfer of goods from the canal to his shop. “How much wine from the shores of Middle Earth?”

 

“None of your business, Abrazîr!” He barked back. “You’d do well to fill yourself with the mead of Nísimaldar. That’s good stuff there. And not as strong.”

 

Abrazîr cackled, jumping across to the area Sakalthôr stood. “Ah come. You know I can handle the elvish stuff. I don’t need a child’s drink from our island.”

 

The man rolled his eyes. “How much coin you’ve got on you?”

 

“Now we’re talking.” Abrazîr fished out five silver pieces. “This is more than generous for a bottle of Dorwinion. It’s for the queen.”

 

Aldarion’s eyes widened. He shook his head with a laugh. Abrazîr really did feel spooked about potentially crossing his mother. He joined Abrazîr where he stood.

 

“Prince Aldarion!” Sakalthôr grunted. “My lord, what brings you down here today.”

 

“Apparently buying wine for my mother,” said Aldarion with a smirk and a shake of his head at Abrazîr. “Here.” He fished out an extra gold piece. “Make it your best.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Sakalthôr climbed up a ladder into his storeroom above and dug around his stock. About a minute later her reappeared, climbing back down, a bottle of Dorwinion wine in his hand. He gave it to Aldarion. “Give the Queen my respects.”

 

Aldarion nodded. “Of course.”

 

They bid him farewell and made their way as quick as they could out of the canal district. They dodged many workers, apologizing profusely for getting in their way. Once they left the undercity canals, they split.

 

“Here, take the wine,” Aldarion insisted with a small laugh. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Don’t be late to the feast.”

 

“And leave you all by yourself? I wouldn’t do that to you,” assured Abrazîr. He took the wine. “Dress nicely, alright sweet prince. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother.”

 

Aldarion waved it off. “I always dress nice. I’m just worried you’re not going to clean up well.”

 

“I’ll bathe, don’t worry about me.” Abrazir bounded up the stairs into the upper city. “And don’t just stare at the ship all day, Aldarion. Actually go get ready.”

 

Aldarion rolled his eyes after his friend. As Abrazîr disappeared up into the city, he turned back to the ship in the harbor. In the distance he could see Tol Uinen, and yearned as always to walk upon that hallowed isle. Someday he would honor the Lady properly. But for now, he had a party to prepare for.


	2. Chapter Two

When he walked into the great feasting hall of Rómenna, Aldarion grinned to see the beautiful decorations which had been strung up. Banners of the House of Elros hung from the great cream colored square stone columns that lined the hall. At each great table, flowers of blue and white sat in vases of water and precious stones. Roaring fires lit the hall along with the bit of light still shining through the tall windows. 

 

He straightened his crimson tunic and golden vest and looked down to make sure his black pants were still properly tucked into his boots. Confident in his appearance, Aldarion walked down the grand steps into the hall itself. Aldarion tried to locate people he knew well: friends, family, sailors. 

 

The first person he recognized waved him over. The man stood tall, with white hair and a white, well trimmed beard. He dressed in blues and greys.

 

When he reached him, Aldarion grinned and shook his hand.“Grandfather!”

 

Vëantur smiled warmly. “Quite the party our family has thrown. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised with my daughter funding it.” He took a sip of red wine and gestured over to a nearby Ailinel who busily wove to and fro between adults, looking for something. “Ailinel!”

 

She turned to see who called her. When she saw her grandfather, Ailinel grinned and ran over to them. “Grandfather! Are you excited to leave tomorrow?”

 

Vëantur laughed and gave her a hug. “Always. Though it is hard to leave my family behind.”

 

“We will miss you,” Ailinel nodded sadly. Then she turned to her older brother. “Are you excited, Aldarion?”

 

He laughed and gave her a hug also. “Of course I am! I’ve been waiting for this for many years.”

 

“Many years?” Vëantur scoffed. “You’re barely an adult. You haven’t been alive for many years.”

 

As Ailinel giggled, Aldarion made a face at Vëantur. Looking around the hall, he caught sight of his parents. He excused himself and walked down the hall until he reached them. They stood beside the largest table at the head of the hall, closest to the raging fire at the front.

 

“Quite a party,” Aldarion commented with a smile.

 

Almarian merely laughed and gave him a tight hug. As he embraced his mother, her gold and pink gown smelled of honey and lavender, a scent that always comforted him. He breathed it in. When they broke apart, his father, who had elected to leave his new crown at home, gave him a hug as well.

 

“I will never understand your love of the sea,” Tar-Meneldur muttered as they separated. “But I do hope you enjoy your time.” 

 

“Oh I know I will!” Aldarion felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see his two best friends behind him.

 

“King Tar-Meneldur, Queen Almarian,” bowed Abrazîr, with Gimlîth following suit. 

 

Tar-Meneldur smiled. “Abrazîr, Gimlîth. It is good to see you both. I trust you will keep an eye on my son during this voyage?”

 

Abrazîr laughed and patted Aldarion on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”

 

Gimlîth looked at him humorously. “Oh?”

 

“Gimlîth I trust you will keep an eye on our son and Abrazîr during this voyage?” joked Almarian. She grabbed two golden glasses of wine and handed one to the short-haired woman. 

 

“I do my best, my lady,” Gimlîth assured her with a mischievous glance at her two friends. Accepting the wine glass, she took a drink as well. “Princess Ailinel seems excited tonight.”

 

Tar-Meneldur chuckled. “Yes, she does. I think she is eager to ask Vëantur for a gift from the shores of Middle Earth.”

 

They all looked over to where Ailinel was tugging on her grandfather’s vest. Tar-Meneldur and the Queen excused themselves to go speak with Vëantur and their younger child, leaving Aldarion and his friends. The prince smiled and looked around, eyes shining in anticipation.

 

“I wonder how many sailors are joining us,” Gimlîth asked as they wandered around towards some small food tables. 

 

“About a hundred,” replied Abrazir from behind his tall glass of water. After he swallowed, he clarified. “I was talking to the first mate. He says they’re taking a smaller crew than usual. Less men and women are willing to go out to sea these days.”

 

Aldarion rolled his eyes. He wandered back over to the main table where all three sat down with their glasses of water and wine, and small plates of starter foods. “The people of Númenor simply do not understand the beauty of the water. If they could see the ocean as I see it-”

 

“As we see it,” Gimlîth corrected.

 

“-as we see it, there would never be a shortage of sailors.” Aldarion shook his head. “And I won’t lie to you, it is also the draw of seeing the shores of Middle Earth and not only the beaches of Elenna that intrigues me.”

 

Abrazir nodded. “It intrigues us all. You aren’t alone in this.”

 

With a sigh Aldarion agreed. “I know. Though some days I cannot remember. My parents and sister do not share my love of the ocean, no matter how much I try to explain it.”

 

“At least your father understands love of the stars,” Gimlîth reminded him gently. “And the stars are important to sailors. Perhaps when we return, you can share stories of navigating to the stars with him.”

 

Aldarion chuckled and dropped his head low. Then he glanced between his two friends with a laugh. “If only I was Eärendil the Mariner, sailing the skies. Then I could love both stars and sailing!”

 

“Aldarion the Mariner,” Abrazir joked. “Has a nice ring to it. Perhaps someday we will call you that. But the histories must call us Abrazîr the Sailor and Gimlîth the Navigator as well!”

 

A bell rang through the hall. Tar-Meneldur, Almarian, Ailinel, and Vëantur all arrived to sit at the table with the three friends. Once everyone in the hall had sat down, great platters of meats and salads and steaming pots of soup came out for the hungry celebrants. They devoured the meal. Not much talk happened during the feasting, but once the food had been cleared away and all bellies filled, Tar Meneldur and Veantur both stood and went to the middle aisle.

 

Tar-Meneldur spoke first, raising his arms in greeting. “Welcome, great sailors of Elenna!” He had to pause as cheers went up. Once they had died down, he continued. “It is my privilege to host this feast in honor of the final voyage of Númenor’s greatest mariner and Captain of the King’s Ships, Lord Vëantur.”

 

Even more cheers echoed through the hall. Aldarion led them, clapping and whooping for his grandfather. His mother watched him in amusement.

 

“For a hundred years you have led expeditions to the foreign shores of Middle Earth and brought us news of those wide lands. And now we ask you to do it one last time.” Tar-Meneldur turned to him and smiled. He leaned in and whispered just to him as the cheers droned on, “Keep my son safe.”

 

Vëantur nodded to Tar-Meneldur before raising his hands for quiet to stop the noise. “It is with great honor that I accept this final mission. It has been with great joy that I have acted as Captain of the King’s Ships, and ever since that first mission to Middle Earth I have found only one greater joy. That love and joy is the ability to teach my grandson, Prince Aldarion, all that I know.” He turned to Aldarion who still sat at the table and smiled warmly. “Tomorrow we set sail, my lords and ladies. Let us feast tonight so that we may be prepared for whatever storms come our way!” Vëantur held up his goblet. “For the glory of Numenor!”

 

The crowd stood and echoed his actions. Men and women shouted out of the glory of their grand nation, Aldarion not least of all. He stood and grabbed his grandfather in a hug, smiling incessantly. He couldn’t stop. All he could think about was the next day. He would be sailing.


End file.
